This month's letters are vital reading for anyone who has a mother, knows a mother, is a mother, wants to be a mother, or is sprawled unconscious on the bathroom floor having just seen the results of a pregnancy test. Here's Ask Eeee's First Annual...MOMMY MELODRAMA link

Dear E. Jean: I'm 23, recently bought my first house, and my mother moved in. I pay all the bills. In return she orders me around like I'm a child and insists I come home every night before one! Do I have to listen to this?—Mom's Little Cash Machine

Cash, my dear : No young lady over the age of seven listens to her mother. (Hell, it takes 30 or 40 years of scalding emotional labor just to get her voice out of your head.) Tell her, "Ma, I love you; but you raised me to be an independent woman, and I intend to come and go as I please without taking any twitpiffle from you."

P.S.: Here's a big kiss for buying a house at 23, you clever woman! Also, Deborah Tannen's book, You're Wearing That? Understanding Mothers and Daughters in Conversation, explains why mother-daughter communication is so exasperating. (When Mom says, "Be home by one," she's saying, "I worry, I care"; however, what you hear is the high-pitched squawk of a controlling bitchcarp. You're both right.)

Dear E. Jean: Pardon my French, but I don't know what the #%*!! to do. Three years after seeing me happily married, my mother says she wishes my husband would die and that my father shares the sentiment.

My husband and I are very much in love. We aren't rich, but we aren't starving, and we have a magnificent son whom we both love endlessly. Hubby is not perfect (who is?), but he's a good husband and a wonderful father.

Nuts, hunny : Peace? Har! Your destructive diptard of a mother needs to be dragged through the fine streets of East Hampton by her bra straps. She "always" picks on "everyone"? The next heart she eats could be your son's (as in "Awwww, Grandmama wishes Bad Daddy would go away for a looooong time").

This will be painfully hard; it will hurt worse than losing two fingers. You're about to fire your mother. (BTW, she's not your "best friend"; she's a bully to the gills.) She'll erupt like Vesuvius, so I suggest you tell her over tea at a fancy hotel. It's public. It's elegant. You'll have the advantage of surprise, and it will force her to behave.

Take a deep breath, ignore her angst-fraught means of protest, and say, "Mother, if you do not honor my marriage, if you do not respect my husband, if you do not retract the statement about wishing his death—and if you do not stop your excruciating meanness, you will never enter my house again. Nor will I permit you to see your grandson."

She may stand up and walk out, but stick to your guns. She'll capitulate in the end; you're giving her so few choices, she'll understand on the deepest level the impossibility of defeating you. Good luck!

Dear E. Jean: How do I find a good guy when (a) I'm a devoted single mom and (b) I work full-time? I'm 27, recently ended my marriage (met in college, married at 21, pregnant at 22). I've never been to a club, never really experienced life, and don't know how to "date." I barely have time for anything. How do I start meeting nice guys?—Dateless and Confused

Dear Dateless : Bah. Forget clubs. What kind of mother are you? Can't you see your child needs a workout in the batting cage at the park this Sunday? And if you're not swinging at a few balls yourself and wearing a cute (a very, very cute) outfit and asking the single fathers (whose endocrine systems make them swarm sports venues on weekends) for coaching tips (or ladling out—hee hee—in the most gorgeously scientific manner, a few tips yourself), Auntie Eeee will toss you from the game.

Hitting (golf balls, hockey pucks), chasing (volleyballs, badminton birdies), and running (after Frisbees, tennis balls) will reignite your sense of play (surviving all the hoo-ha of divorce can suffocate you and your child's roguish sides) and provide a way to laugh and meet nice guys (who tend to be refreshingly uncool when they're with their kids, so when you see a chap you admire, simply smile and say hi). And if your child is a girl, all the better—girls who play sports get higher marks in school and put off having sex until later in life.

Join your PTA—a smart move on behalf of your child's education and a wily one for your love life. Fellow parents will pitch the best single fathers they know in your direction; you line up the shots and hit a home run with a winner.link

Dear E. Jean: This is a weird career question, but I'm a single mother of twin girls and don't know how to get started—and stick with—this idea I have. I want to write a book about twins, but no project in my house is ever finished. The kids get into something (they're two and a half), or I get sidetracked on the phone, or, well—it's always something!—Talented, Tired, and Lost

Talented, my young trollymog : I've consulted with my friend, the illustrious Marilyn Johnson, endlessly pestered mother of three and author of the fascinating new book about obits called The Dead Beat: Lost Souls, Lucky Stiffs and the Perverse Pleasures of Obituaries (HarperCollins), who says: "Twins! My God! Don't wait for a block of time to start writing. It'll never come. Grab any three minutes available. Keep index cards and pencils in your purse, your car, by your bedside, kitchen table, bathtub. When an idea, a sentence, a phrase hits, write it down and slip the card into a folder. Then when the girls are taking a nap or are on a playdate, sit down with the folder and start writing. As it turns out, 15 minutes is a very usable chunk of time. And amazingly, the deeper you get into your book, the stronger your concentration will become and the less you'll be sidetracked."

USDA Prime advice to which I'll merely add: Turn off the phone and tape-record your twins talking (you can use their dialogue as chapter heads); and read Marilyn's marvelous book—there are some juicy obits about celebrity mothers.

Dear E. Jean : I'm a guy. I have a young daughter. I want to marry her mother. She's my high school sweetheart. I love her to death, but...there's always a "but." I just graduated from college. She's still in college. We were separated for a seven-month period, and during that time she got drunk on several occasions, had sex with total strangers, took money from some of them, and now that we're back together, I frankly don't know if I want to be with someone who's done such things. Her mother was dying during her "wild period," and I'm hurt she didn't turn to me for help. My best friend isn't picking up his phone tonight, so I had to turn to someone. Thanks.—Don't Have the Answers (for First Time in My Life)

DON'T, DARLING: Well, now. This is what people do in college, but you face two dilemmas:

1. Is the mother of your child a genuine head case?
2. If your baby mama does turn out to be erratic and spring-loaded, are you man enough to take full responsibility for raising your daughter?

Why the young lady plunged into a screwball sex spree (she was immature, not ready for the pressures of parenthood, wanted to escape her mother's illness, was unable to eat the frustration when life didn't go her way, etc.) is important for her to figure out; but it's more crucial to discover if she's likely to do it again. Get her to a therapist. A few sessions will unearth the thought processes that led to your girlfriend's actions. I recommend a cognitive-behavioral therapist, who can recast her thinking, so it becomes less likely the sex tantrums, if abnormal, will recur.

Then give it time. Spend part of each day with your daughter—she needs both parents. If all goes well, and your girlfriend can find the tools to deal with life's curveballs, and if you're ready to make a family, then I say, consider thinking about marriage. But give it at least one year before taking the final step.